WBY Namesake
by wildblueyonder6
Summary: Jamie, Dean, Sam River and John are discussing Pastor Jim. Jamie/River Verse. Discussion of spanking of child, please don't read if this offends.


WBY- Namesake

Summary: Jamie, Dean, Sam River and John are discussing Pastor Jim. Jamie/River Verse

There was a storm howling outside. Not a twister but one of those freakish Texas storms that seemed to come out of nowhere and lasted for an indeterminate amount of time. Jamie had run down to the barn through the deluge and made sure the horses were in, bedded down for the night and given fresh hay and water, then he ran back up through the mud and the muck to splash his way into the kitchen.

He skidded to a stop leaving identical brown muddy streaks across the kitchen floor as Sam cocked an eyebrow in his direction.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, I got it." Jamie stated before even said a word.

Sam chuckled and threw a roll of paper towels in his direction and then a moment later a bath towel.

"Overkill much?"

"Hardly, Jamie, there's not a dry spot on you. Towel off, man, your gonna catch pneumonia."

"Yes, mom."

Sam grinned. "Watch it kiddo, this 'mom' has got a pretty solid right hand."

Jamie laughed and rubbed the towel through his hair, dropped the paper towels on the floor and used his shoes to sop up the tracks like some crazed hockey player.

"Dude, could you get any lazier?" Sam asked.

"What? – This is multitasking. Cleaning the floor, the bottom of my shoes and drying my hair. You should be impressed with my talent."

Sam snorted. "Whatever, Jamie, there just better not be any mud on that floor when your multitasking is done."

Jamie saluted sharply and quickly wiped up the mess.

"So, when's dinner? I'm starving."

"And that's a new concept? You're always starving. You are like a walking metabolic eating machine." Sam muttered but at the imaginary crestfallen look on Jamie's face he continued, "I'd say at least an hour. There's nothing to do in here except wait for the chicken to roast."

Jamie reached in the fridge and swooped his hand toward a bowl, he yelped as Sam smacked him hard. "Whatcha do that for?"

"'Cause that's pudding for dinner with the emphasis on dinner."

Jamie grumbled. "Well, I see there is no food available in this kitchen for a hungry boy and as much as I love watching chicken roasting, I think I'll head to the living room and watch the game."

Sam grabbed three beers, two Cokes and headed into the living room, following Jamie.

"Dad, Dean…you interested?"

"Hell, yeah!" Dean leaned over and snatched a beer from Sam; Sam gave the other to John and then settled on the couch next to River. Sam handed the Cokes to River and Jamie. Both offered a soft "Thanks."

"This game kinda sucks." River mentioned, stifling a yawn and then finally gave into it. It appeared that he was just determined not to fight it.

John grunted. It could be affirmation. It could be gas. It could be a lot of things. John Winchester grunted an infinite number of meanings with very few syllables. He snapped the newspaper on his lap once and continued to scan the obits. Old habits evidently died hard.

Dean waggled a brow at River then Jamie and Sam.

"It does kind of suck, but there's not much on TV anyway. "

John mumbled, "All these freakin' TV channels and nothing worth watching."

All of a sudden, as if John had somehow hexed the TV with his negativity, it sputtered once then started with missing pixilation and then just scrambled white.

Dean wordlessly got up and smacked the top of the TV.

"What are you doing that for?" John asked, "It's the damn dish. Can't you hear the monsoon going on? Don't you see your soaking wet son staining the couch with the water dripping off of him?"

Dean sheepishly looked at his father. "Force of habit, Dad. How many crappy hotels did we grow up in with crappier TVs. Sometimes a well placed smack would do the trick."

John raised a brow; "A well place smacked can do wonders, but not often with the TV. Besides, you didn't grow up in motels, you grew up traveling, learning about the world, honing your people skills and learning how to hunt. We didn't just stay at motels. "

Sam snorted, "So dad, is 'honing your people skills' a euphemism for 'fraud"? If so that that would be true. And I have to give you credit, sometimes we graduated to hotels and once in a while some seedy rental property." Sam leveled John a strong but pleasant look, as evidenced by the twinkle in his eye, "We lived in a lot of shitty places."

"Yeah, well you lived in some good places too. " John stated defensively, "You stayed with Bobby a bit, Caleb and Jefferson. Lord knows you spent a lot of time with Jim Murphy."

"Pastor Jim right?" Jamie queried, suddenly interested in the conversation." He's the guy I was named after right, Dad?"

"Yes, son, you were. He was a good man and a good friend of Dad's, a good friend to us boys too. You would have liked him."

"So he was a pastor? Was he Protestant? Catholic? Buddhist?"

"I dunno, what was he Dad?" Dean turned to John.

"Catholic – but I'd known him since the war, before he was 'Pastor' Jim. He was Just Jim then. Well, he was kind of Pastor Jim in 'Nam too but it was in no official capacity. He certainly wasn't a priest yet. Then when he decided to join the priesthood…" John settled a little more comfortably in his chair and dropped his newspaper to his lap, "I sure as hell wasn't calling him Father Jim. Jim didn't care. His calling was what mattered. That and his parish, and his friends." John stopped for a moment, "I still miss him. It's been a while but he was one of my best friends. "

River grumbled, "So Jamie here was named after a priest and I was named after a damn body of water."

"Well, at least your Sunshine didn't name you Bubbling Brook or Waterfall." Jamie laughed at his own joke and River just scowled but there was no meanness in it. It looked like he might just smack Jamie though but a quick look from Sam seemed to quell his desire to inflict minor damage on his cousin.

"So what was your namesake like?" River asked curiously, now that it was obvious he was not going to be able to beat on Jamie.

"I dunno, he died before I was born."

John spoke a little low, his voice gravely with emotion, "Jim. He was a helluva hunter and a good man. He and I served together in Echo 2-1. We were just boys, Christ I was barely seventeen. He saved my ass more than once. We both held each other up after a brawl or two. He, Deacon and I, we were the terrible trio In Country but we had each other's backs. He married your grandmother and me. He even baptized your fathers. I wasn't too keen on that, but Mary wanted it and well, I could never tell your grandmother no." John's voice got a little wistful at the thoughts of his late wife.

"And regardless about what Tweedledee and Tweedledumb over there say, they spent a lot of time at Jim's and it was a good place. He was the Pastor for a small parish and he lived in a house not far from the church. The lady parishioners all had a thing for Jim. What was the name of that housekeeper and cook that took care of his place?"

Dean answered right away. "Mrs. O'Shea."

John looked hard at Dean, "You got a good memory, son."

Dean blushed a bit. "Well, Mrs. O'Shea ran a tight ship, Dad. She ruled that kitchen with a spoon bigger than Bobby's and she could slap your head hard enough to rattle your brain."

Sam laughed, "Yeah, she did. I didn't get it much but I think that Dean's right ear was either red from slaps or from her dragging him around by it most of the time."

Dean laughed self depreciatingly. "Yeah, she was something. I tell ya boys, she was about five nothin' and round you know, round all over and strong. Shit she was strong as an ox and Pastor Jim loved her to death. She took care of everything for him. Fixed his dinners, cleaned his house, planted his gardens and she even put those fancy curtains up. Remember Dad? The blue and white ones? Plus she made the best damn apple pies I have ever had. Hand to God, boys, the best and I have had some apple pies." Dean smiled at the memory.

Sam grinned, "Do you remember the one and only time Pastor Jim whupped your ass?"

Dean wiggled a bit in the chair as if that particular memory was one he did not want to share. "Why are you bringing that up? I'm talking apple pies and at best a clout on the head, you bring up an ass whipping."

"Well, because it was all because of Mrs. O'Shea." Sam countered helpfully.

"Yeah, I remember. You don't forget something like that, Sam."

River broke in, "You got your ass kicked by a priest? Dude – that just sounds wrong."

"Yeah, it does. Although I suppose in Catholic school a priest would be known to wallop somebody, that wasn't Jim's style. He was a gentle man by nature with the heart of a warrior. Don't get me wrong, oh, he'd punish you alright by making you clean the damn silver, or put that oil soap on the pews at the church, but he only whupped me that once."

Jamie leaned over eagerly, "So whatcha do?"

Dean sat back. "Can't we do something else? Talk about something else?"

"Well, the TV's dead and honestly, son, I think that particular story might be beneficial for the boys to hear." John spoke mildly but it was obvious that he expected Dean to continue on.

"Why don't you tell it then, Dad?" Dean asked a little sullenly.

"Not my story to tell, besides I wasn't there for the first butt blistering."

"True, but you made your presence known on the second." Dean agreed.

John humpfed and reclined his recliner back all the way, obviously ready to stay around for a while and listen.

Dean ran a hand through his closely cropped hair. "Okay, I'll spill but I want you to know I'm doing it for my son and my nephew. There is a lesson to be learned and I guess I'd rather you learn it by my telling it rather than you experiencing it." He glared a little at the boys.

Both River and Jamie exchanged identical glances. It was as if they were little boys instead of teenagers, sitting around a campfire listening to stories. The fact that Dean was the one who got his butt warmed seemed to make them both inordinately happy.

Dean began, "Well, as you may have noticed, I'm a bit of a smart ass."

Sam almost spit his beer across the room, "That's an understatement."

"Okay, I'm a lot of a smart ass. I always have been. Gramps over there tried to beat the smart ass out of me but sometimes – well sometimes I dunno, it just didn't work."

John smiled, "I still don't know if it was your hard Winchester ass or your hard Winchester head."

"So you're a smart ass, Dad, nothing new. Get on with the whipping." Jamie sounded almost joyful.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Are you gonna shut up and let me talk?"

"Shutting up." Jamie smiled primly and folded his hands on his lap. Then giggled.

"So I was a smart ass then too, only worse. Plus, I was a bit of a show off. " There was a soft chuckle from John.

"Okay you guys, I mean it. If y'all don't all shut up, I'm going to bed and you can watch the damn fuzzy TV."

John made a zipping motion over his mouth.

"Like I said, Pastor Jim really thought a lot of Mrs. O'Shea. She ran his house, tended his gardens, fixed him dinners. She knew he was a hunter too. She was from Ireland – folks there are more open to the supernatural. They know of fairy folk and have a lot of pagan traditions; they believe in spirits and banshees, it's a different place. She spoke with a quiet brogue – I liked to hear her talk. Well, unless she was pissed then she would start yelling in Gaelic I guess, what she said I will never know. It may have been curse words, or she could have been praying but for some reason she seemed to spend more time talking in Gaelic if I was around."

River laughed then. It couldn't be helped. Dean glared at him.

"Anyway, after church, Jim's flock would hang around and the kids would hang around too. Most of them were just like kids everywhere; they couldn't wait to get out of church. They would dutifully shake Pastor Jim's hand and then take off around the gardens, or the church or the house. Dad's right you know, it was very nice place. Except we had to go to church, that wasn't a lot of fun, but just like the other boys we'd take off as soon as we could and would leave the adults chatting in the church or whatever. So there was a picnic that weekend and after church the kids bolted and the ladies in the parish started opening their folding tables and bringing out their table clothes. There was fried chicken, boys…honest to God fried chicken, and potato salad and punch. Lord, the pies, every kind imaginable! Peach and blueberry, apple and pecan. Man those ladies were good cooks. But they had to set the shit up you know and that left us hanging around with the local boys." Dean seemed to have picked up a rhythm of the story, settling deeper in the couch leaving his beer to sweat on the coffee table.

"So l mentioned what Mrs. O'Shea looked like. Round, she had wide hips and she always wore those silly floral dresses. She wore "sensible" shoes and I guess if I'd have to paint you a picture it would be from that old Andy Griffith Show. Remember, boys – in black and white – Aunt Bea. She looked like Aunt Bea."

Sam nodded agreeably, "That's pretty much it guys, an Irish version of Aunt Bea."

So she was trundling stuff from the kitchen to the front for the picnic – Sam, the local boys and me were standing around the corner watching her waddle from the house to the picnic area and back again. I uh…I was laughing with the boys and with Sam and they thought I was funny as shit so I just started commenting on Mrs. O'Shea. I uh, said some very uncharitable things. " Dean blushed, "Stupid, dumb things, funny as shit but just – dumb. But everyone laughed and I did too and getting everyone to laugh just made me want to say more things so I did. By the time Mrs. O'Shea had finished her treks in and out, we were almost in tears with my smart ass mouth."

Dean paused, took a sip of his beer and continued on, "So that was it. Or so I thought. What I didn't realize that Mrs. O'Shea had heard every word. I mean, I figured then that if she had, she would have clobbered me, or maybe grabbed me by the ear and drug me around the picnic screaming at me in Gaelic but she didn't do any of those things. All she did was tell Pastor Jim."

John spoke quietly from his chair; "Jim sure thought the sun rose and set with that woman."

"Yes, sir. He did and when he found out? – Well, I knew I was a goner. I don't know when she told him, but I imagine it was after the picnic was over; she wouldn't have wanted to ruin the day. But that night? Jim came to me gray eyes blazing and grabbed me by the collar of my t-shirt. Well, if it had a collar. It was so weird, Jim was so damn unflappable. He was kind and gentle and sometimes I didn't even see how he could be a hunter, though he was one and damn good at it too. Anyhow, he snatched me right out of the bedroom that Sam and I shared and scooped me up under his arm like a damn football. I was thirteen guys, not a little kid but Jim carried me like I was nothing. Sammy started crying then, I could hear it from our room. "

Sam interjected. "You just had to mention that didn't you. I was nine for Chrisake and I didn't know much about hunting but I did know that Pastor Jim was going all Exorcist on you and I didn't know what to do. And I only cried for a minute or two before I realized what was happening. I stopped then, because you getting your ass beat was routine, you getting your ass beat by Pastor Jim was an event so I snuck out of the bedroom to watch."

Dean turned to Sam, "You watched?"

"Hell, yeah. It was like an eclipse or something. It would probably never happen again in my lifetime and I was going to take advantage of it."

Dean shook his head, "Have you no shame?"

"None at all." Sam smiled and reached over to River throwing an arm over his shoulder.

"Anyhow, I had no idea what I was being beat for, not at first. Pastor Jim just pulled down my sleep pants, my briefs and started whaling on me. Honestly, I was shocked, I mean too shocked to even yell. Then he started talking and spanking. I hate that shit – like tell me before hand or after what you are going to beat me for, not while you are doing it. While you are smacking my ass, I don't have a lot of brainpower to devote to answering questions – or even listening for that matter, but Jim seemed to like it just fine. 'Dean Winchester, don't you ever, ever speak about Mrs. O'Shea like that again' WHACK, 'She's a very dear friend and a good woman', WHACK, 'She deserves respect and consideration and if you ever,' WHACK. 'Ever' WHACK, 'Talk to her like that again,' WHACK 'I will take a belt to your ass and you won't sit for a week.' WHACK, WHACK, WHACK. Well, I was howling by now. Surprise, scared, I dunno, I would have done anything he wanted. Anything. He kept laying down scorchers and then started talking again, 'And another thing, I better never hear you speak to _any _woman like that again.' He finished strong man, just as hard as Dad has ever spanked me and all I could do was mumble 'yes, sir' and cry."

Sam agreed, "Yup, there was a lot of crying."

"Then as if that wasn't bad enough he sent me to the damn corner. Like a five year old. But you better be damn sure I went. I ran to the first corner I could find, bare assed and sobbing. I wasn't planning on moving until he told me to or until I died. I thought I might die and that would have been just fine with me. My ass was on fire, my face was as red as my ass and I don't remember ever feeling such shame in all of my life."

Dean stopped then. "Really, boys, I was ashamed. Ashamed that I had spoken rudely about Mrs. O'Shea, who was as good person. She never hurt me, was never cruel, I mean, she'd clobber me once in a while and drag me around with the ear thing but she made the most amazing pies and she always gave me seconds or thirds. I was always hungry and she knew it. She fixed me sandwiches or tossed me an apple before it became pie. She was a really nice lady and I was a dick. A total dick. I was just so caught up in being a funny guy and if it was at her expense well, so what? I wasn't trying to be mean, but that doesn't count, because I knew what I was doing. Hurting somebody because I could. Hurting someone I cared about just to make a bunch of kids laugh and to make myself feel like big man on campus. I learned a lot that day. I learned that women deserve respect, I learned that hurting someone at the expense of someone else, is never the way to be a funny man or a smart ass. Most importantly though, I learned to never, ever piss off a priest."

John laughed then out loud and with a deep bass rumble, "I never heard your version before Dean."

Dean looked over at his father, "Well, you never asked."

John shrugged absently, "True, I just starting beating on you some more when I heard Jim had spanked your ass."

"Gramps! You didn't do that did you?" River looked slightly appalled, blue eyes wide and blond hair flopping across his forehead, an exactly replica of his father at fourteen.

"Of course, I did. Standing orders, Champ. Whenever one of the boys got it from whoever was watching them, they got it again when I got home."

Dean grinned a bit, "Luckily you didn't come home for a week, by then my ass had recovered from Jim. Of course, the reprieve didn't last very long but you know, it wasn't like I didn't know it was gonna come."

It was quiet for a moment in the living room, and then River turned to Sam. "Did you ever get spanked by Pastor Jim?"

"Nope, remember I watched Jim tear into Dean. I didn't want to ever have that happen to me. Besides, I wasn't a smart alec, I was more the sullen, morose type and Jim didn't care about that. He would send me to the library to research if he got mad at me, or do the church pew cleaning. Never got my butt whipped by him."

Jamie turned then, green eyes meeting his father's. "So you named me after a man who spanked your ass over a housekeeper."

Dean growled low, "She wasn't just a housekeeper, Jamie, she was more than that and yes, I named you after that man. He was a good man, a gentle soul and he followed his faith and the church and never once had it conflict with his job as a hunter. He meant a lot to me, and he taught me a lot. I wish he was still around to see the man I've become, to see the son I have and the family that is here. I think he would be proud."

John dropped the recliner footrest down and started toward the steps to go to bed,

"I wish he was too." John murmured quietly and then turned back toward Sam, Dean and the boys his voice strong and resolved, "But make no doubt about it boys, he would be proud. Very proud of all of you."

End.


End file.
